


Do You Think There's a Heaven?

by MoTexas55 (CupNoodles55)



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Contemplative Leo, Family Feels, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Questioning Spirituality/Religion, Season 4 - Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupNoodles55/pseuds/MoTexas55
Summary: Mikey poses a question that, not only gives Leonardo a few things to think about, but also forces him to recognize his responsibility as an older brother and the leader of a team.
Kudos: 19





	Do You Think There's a Heaven?

When the door opened and spilled a rectangle of light across his brow, he wasn't sure, at first, which one of his brothers was sneaking into the room.

At home, he could normally tell in an instant who was entering his space by the way the door was handled.

If it was Donnie, the door would give nothing more than a whispered creak as he pushed it open slowly, and then turned the knob all the way before easing it close and letting it lock into place again. If it was Raph, Leo sometimes didn't catch the door opening, but he always heard it shut, because the turtle in red never took the grace and consideration that Donnie did to be quiet. If it was Mikey, the door would fly open without fail, usually with enough force to send a gust of air across the room, and it would then be left standing open to let the guardian of light follow behind him as he tiptoed up to Leo's bed.

On the Ulixes, it was different. Every door opened on its own with a mechanical swish, then closed again in much the same manner once the threshold had been crossed. But as far as who was now picking his way carefully across Leo's quarters, it didn't really matter. In fact, Leo had been counting on it, waiting for it. Because, since the day he and his brothers had watched their planet crumble and disappear into a black hole mere moments after the Shredder had stabbed their entire family through the back, he had not slept alone once. In fact, he'd hardly slept at all.

Rolling over to the very edge of his bed with his shell pressed against the wall had become a habit, and he did so now without bothering to open his eyes. Only when a weight sank down beneath the sheets next to him did he recognize the warmth of his youngest brother. Mikey immediately nestled himself as close to Leo's plastron as possible and tucked his head beneath the older turtle's chin.

It wasn't until Leo slid his arm around his brother's shell that he noticed a heavier presence than just Mikey's alone and blinked his eyes open. He peeked over the crown of Mikey's head and watched through the shadows as Donnie settled himself down on Mikey's opposite side, lying with his shell comfortably curved into the mattress's foam and his brown eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Leo let his head sink back into his pillow and tugged the extra folds of fabric out from between his shell and the wall and distributed the area of the sheets more evenly, passing the excess over to Donnie, who took it without comment and curled the hem of the sheets up under his chin. He released a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, but Leo didn't bother him about it. He closed his eyes again and pulled Mikey a little closer.

He had almost drifted off into a doze, when Mikey's voice whispered across his collarbone.

"Do you think there's a heaven?"

Leo's muscles stiffened, and he knew by the way the air turned stale behind Mikey's back that Donnie was still very much awake and had heard the question.

"There's no documented evidence to prove such a thing exists," Donatello answered mechanically.

It always chilled Leo a little, when his intelligent younger brother used such a tone. It only happened when Donnie was a particular kind of hollow on the inside, a good indicator to the rest of them that he'd met his limit and probably needed to be left alone. This was also normally when he turned to spouting out facts without thought, in such a manner that was cold and rather unnerving.

"What about the Bible?" Mikey asked.

"That's debatable. Every reference to heaven in the Bible is based on the recollection of man — who could have just as easily been dreaming. No one knows for sure if they're true. There's no scientific confirmation to prove it."

"Does there have to be?"

"No," Leo said quickly, staring deliberately over Mikey's head. Donnie's eyes met his. The younger turtle made no comment and looked back at the ceiling. Leo brushed a hand over the top of Mikey's head.

"That's what faith is," he said, keeping his voice soft and reassuring. "It's choosing to believe in something that you can't see."

"Do _you_ think there's a heaven?" Mikey asked again, this time looking directly up at Leo with bright blue eyes.

Leo hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer. He could have said yes, simply for the sake of easing Mikey's confusion on divine existence, and providing some hopeful sort of comfort. He'd learned, both from his sensei and his brother, that questioning the reality of celestial beings and a utopian afterlife in the sky was often a part of grieving something.

"People want to know that their loved ones — that their selves and their purpose — will not end in tragedy," Splinter had once told him.

"It's an effect of fear," had been Donnie's point, only days before now, when Mikey had first asked about God. "No one likes to think that life just ends, so they latch onto stories about peace after life and who provides it."

For himself, Leo wasn't sure what to believe. Splinter had never imposed any kind of religion on them when they were growing up. In fact, their father had never seemed to be a follower of one himself. And when Donnie went through a fascinated phase of religious studies, Splinter had simply made sure to answer his questions as best he could. But Donnie took everything from a factual, logical point of view, no matter how interesting it was to him or how much anyone wanted him to believe a certain idea. He'd never even bought fully into the Santa Clause lore, which had made one or two Christmases miserable for the rest of them. So if there was ever a concern on Splinter's part for what his sons chose to believe, Leo guessed those anxieties were muted when it came to Donnie. Now though, Leo wasn't sure that factual thinking was what was best for Mikey.

"I'm not sure," he said, deciding to answer honestly. "I mean, there could be. There's certainly nothing to _disprove_ that there's a heaven," he added.

Again he met eyes with his brother, and Donnie did nothing more than look away.

"If there is," Mikey said, staring thoughtfully at Leo's plastron, "do you think Splinter's there?"

A knot rose in Leo's throat, preventing a response. He could only blink into empty shadows and hold back his surprise when Donnie hiccuped over a painful-sounding breath and turned on his side to fold Mikey in his arms and bury his face into his little brother's neck. He didn't comment this time.

It took an elongated moment of silence for Leo to swallow and breathe in a sip of flat, Ulixes air. "Of course he is," he managed to choke out, also holding his brother firmly. He reached across for Donnie's shoulder and pulled him closer too, sandwiching their baby brother between them.

Mikey, of course, didn't seem to mind this at all.

The three of them lay like this for a long while, none of them saying anything, each of them as wide awake as the other two. Leo's muscles were still locked when the door opened again. He jumped, and his hands automatically gripped his brothers protectively — though he knew in the forefront of his mind that a lack of alarms meant they were perfectly safe.

He lifted his head the same moment that Donnie peeked over his own shoulder, and both boys took in Raph's silhouette in the doorway.

Raph resisted moving any further into the room, and for a moment just stared back at them, recognizing the presence of both Donnie and Mikey where they technically shouldn't have been. Then he exhaled through his teeth and whispered a curse before turning to slouch back to the room he shared with Casey.

Leo sat up a little more. "Come on, Raph."

Raphael stopped with his hand on the doorframe. Though Leo couldn't see his eyes, he could feel their passionate green staining his skin. He didn't move.

Leo angled his head, gesturing for his stubborn brother to join the pile. Donnie shifted positions and settled himself toward the end of the bed, leaning his weight against Leo and draping his legs over Mikey's. Mikey offered a smile to their brother across the room and patted the space that Donnie had created.

"No shame in it, buddy."

Raph half sighed, half moaned and shook his head as though annoyed, but he crossed the threshold and sauntered up to the bed, climbing into it stiffly and allowing Mikey to drape the sheets over him. Once Mikey had tucked him in, Raph turned over and planted himself on his side with his shell facing the rest of them, but this didn't seem to deter the little one a bit. In fact, Mikey's smile widened and he took the gesture as an invitation to snuggle up against Raph's shell and wiggle his arm underneath Raph's to squeeze his torso. Raph responded by laying his hand over Mikey's. Donnie pressed his cheek against Leo's plastron, his face nearly buried beneath the sheets, and Leo found himself passing a hand over the top of Donnie's head, the same way he had Mikey's.

"We were talking about heaven," Mikey said, his voice just loud enough to settle over the four of them like a blanket.

Raph scoffed. "There's no such thing."

"You don't know that, Raph," Leo said.

Of course Raph would have a similar response to Donnie. Not that he carefully dissected the logic in everything, but he wasn't known to budge very easily when he settled his beliefs on something. And, of the four of them, he might have been the turtle whose mind was the least open. Although, Leo did distinctly remember seven-year-old Raphael punching little Donatello in the mouth for saying Santa Clause wasn't real.

"And you do?" Raph said.

"Not for sure," Leo responded, again honestly. "But there's no reason to say there isn't."

"Leo says Splinter's there," Mikey said, instigating a flood of warmth that rushed to Leo's cheeks.

Raphael laughed. "Leo thinks we're in an episode of _Space Heroes,_ Mikey. I wouldn't hang on to every word he says."

"What is wrong with you?" Leo said. He propped himself up on his elbow so that he could glare down at Raphael over Mikey's shell. He had half a mind to change his mind and tell his brother to march it back to his own room. "This isn't a game, and I'll be the first one to say that. There's nothing wrong with hoping Splinter …" He pressed his lips together and swallowed.

"There's nothing wrong with hoping that Splinter's soul is in a good place."

Raph peeked back at his older brother from the corner of his eye. "Maybe. But I'm not going to believe something just because I want it to be true. You, of all people, should know all about that."

Leo wrinkled his beak and flopped back down on his shell. He crossed his arms and stared up into the corner of the ceiling with eyes that prickled at the corners.

"We did travel back six months in the past," Donnie spoke up quietly. "Technically, right now, Splinter's not dead at all. He's at home in the lair … where he should be."

"And that changes what?" Raph said. "If we fail, he's gonna die the exact same way at the exact same time he did before. And even if we do stop the Triceratons, there's no guarantee that Shredder won't kill Splinter again."

"If we do this right, we can stop them both," Leo said, more toward the wall than to his brothers.

They were silent for a moment, then Mikey said, "Do you think so?"

Leo pressed his lips together and nodded once. "I'm positive."

Donnie shifted, as though with discomfort, and Leo could feel his arm curling around his leg. "But how can you be sure?"

"Faith, Donnie."

Donatello's shoulders sank and he turned his face against his brother's plastron, his grip tightening.

Leo stroked Donnie's head again. "I want you to listen, guys," he said, addressing all three of them. "I know it's been hard without Splinter, and I know you're scared. I am too. But we're not going to be able to change what happened if we don't believe that we can. If Sensei …" He swallowed and blinked rapidly at the ceiling. "If Sensei were here, he'd tell us that, to be successful in battle, the most powerful tool we have is our trust in each other and in our own abilities. By setting ourselves up for failure, we invite failure to come to us. We're a team, and we have to make sure we believe in one another, or else none of this is going to work. _Hai?_ "

It took a long, hesitant moment for any one of them to utter a response, but after that moment, all three of them whispered a collective, " _Hai_."

None of them really slept that night, but there was a layer of warmth weaved between their combined body heat that felt reminiscent of home. Like a ten-years-ago home, when they used to sleep in the same bed every night, when their huddle provided them with all the comfort and protection they needed from things like the cold, and the shadows, and the face-less monsters that they were sure were sometimes lurking in the corners of the room.

It had always been understood that as long as they could feel each other's presence, as long as they were all close enough in one spot, nothing could ever touch them. Leo wondered why they'd ever decided they no longer needed that. Maybe learning to sleep in separate rooms was the reason they'd become so vulnerable. Maybe that was why they'd lost everything. Maybe that was why they needed something to believe in.

But they were teenagers now, and so, when it came time to get out of bed and join April, Casey, and the Fugitoid for breakfast, they had no problem pretending that they'd slept alone, that they were brave enough to sleep in their own beds and fight off bad dreams and cold and shadows by themselves.

And the rest of the day followed in much the same way, in training in the holodeck, in TV watching, in planning their next move against the Triceratons, and so on, until the giant holographic clock, that the Fugitoid had set to Earth time on the back wall in the rec room, read about midnight.

Leo had just turned off the TV and thrown a blanket casually across Casey and Mikey's legs. They were both snoring like bears, lying in opposite directions across the entirety of the couch. Casey's hand was hanging over the edge, his fingers buried in a half-eaten bowl of popcorn. Mikey had had a leg slung over the top of the couch that Leo had readjusted. And now he left the room with silent footsteps, turning off the lights behind him.

He was walking through the bridge, when he noticed Fugitoid's usual bleeping and beeping was nonexistent. He wasn't in the room. But in the far front, standing with his forehead against the glass of the windshield, was Donatello.

Leo pursed his lips and glanced around, but all was silent save for the constant hum of the ship. He looked back at his brother, watching him for a moment, waiting to see if he might move or acknowledge that he was aware of Leo's presence, but he did no such thing. In his stillness, he simply stared with half-lidded eyes and a frown, watching the stars in the distance as the ship slowly floated through the vacuum that was space.

Leonardo took in a breath and walked up the steps to join Donatello at the window, gazing through the glass with him. He cleared his throat.

"Are you going to go to sleep tonight?"

Donatello changed nothing about his stance. "No."

Leo glanced at him, a little surprised by Donnie's tone. "Wow," he said, looking away again. "So blunt."

"There's no point in not being blunt."

Leo shrugged. "Guess not."

They were quiet for a while, and Leo could feel the weight of Donatello's suffering pressing against him, calling out his job as the leader and older brother to do something about it, fix it if he could.

If he was allowed to admit though, Donnie was ironically the most challenging of his brothers to fix. Maybe that was because Donatello didn't as often need fixing. Maybe that was because Leo was used to Donnie doing all the fixing himself. Or maybe that was because Leonardo found it difficult to approach the kind of attitude Donnie acquired when he was like this. Because he did become very blunt and coarse, and arguing with him only resulted in Leo feeling annoyingly ignorant. Donnie was smarter than him, and Leo was always reminded of that by the tiredness in his eyes. And when it came to that point, he never knew if there was really anything he _could_ do to help him. But, he supposed, he had an obligation to do the minimum at least.

So he asked, "What's wrong?"

Donatello squinted, head tipping to the side. "What's wrong?"

He paused, then suddenly smiled and laughed a laugh that made Leo's throat go dry.

"What's _wrong_?" he said again. "Look at where we are!" Donnie threw his arms out, presenting the setting before them. "Look at this spectacular view." His brown eyes stared out at the stars with wonder and he shook his head. "What are we doing here?"

It was a rhetorical question; Leo knew that at least. But he was unnerved by the darkness that came over Donnie's expression. It was slow at first, like a shadow creeping up from the depths of his being where he might have had it locked up tight before. There was a leak now, and it was making its way out slowly, blackening Donatello's resolve until his eyes were flushed with anger.

"We're in space!" he shouted, filling up the room with his voice and the bitterness that echoed back to them. And still he never looked away from the glass.

Leo swallowed and took in a breath, pressing his lips together before speaking. "Guess it wore off, huh?"

"Yeah, it wore off," Donnie said. "A long time ago." His demeanor softened a bit, bringing his shoulders down and quieting his voice. "If it were under different circumstances, I could appreciate it more. But that's exactly it. I look at this, and it's amazing, and all I want to do is learn more, but there's this weight, this obligation, this dread of doing things right, of being exact and perfect so that we don't lose everything again. But by the time that happens, _if_ it happens right, all of this will be gone for us."

Donnie licked his lips and shook his head, turning his eyes down to his feet. "It's an incredible adventure, and we can't even enjoy it."

Leo let a breath through his lips. "You're worrying too much."

"Are you not?" Donnie said, turning his gaze on Leo with a furrowed brow.

Leo swallowed, but before he could respond, Donnie spoke again.

"We're seventeen years old, Leo. Our success rate is based on luck. However cocky we may get, we are not professionals. We don't even know what we're doing. _I_ don't know what we're doing." Donnie tapped his own plastron with an urgent finger, staring Leo down hard. "Ever since we left Earth, I've become completely useless. I know nothing about what's out here, everything is foreign to me, and I can't keep up with it, because I'm too preoccupied trying to rationalize how we're going to win against the Triceratons. Because we don't even know how to destroy the Black Hole Generator. And that in itself is near impossible to do."

When Donnie paused to take a breath and Leo didn't respond, the purple-banded turtle turned his gaze back to the window, his nose wrinkled as though he was disgusted by Leonardo's lack of realism.

"What if we screw this up?" Donnie whispered. "Because we are very prone to do that, and you know it. We don't get to try again, which means we have to float around in space for the rest of our lives with a robot replacement for a guardian."

Donnie lifted a hand then dropped it by his side again as though it was too heavy to raise. His fingers curled into a fist by his side, and Leo watched as grief welled all the way up through Donnie's body, filling his chest, forcing him to hold his breath, and then coating his eyes with tears and turning his cheeks red. Donnie tensed his shoulders, holding his guard like this as long as he could, until the strain broke and he lowered himself into a squat with a gasp. He wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face in his knees.

Leonardo grimaced.

His eyes shifted around the room as though waiting for help to melt out of the walls, but no such thing happened. So after taking in a long breath, he lowered himself down next to Donatello and placed a hand on his shoulder. Donnie's muscles trembled beneath his touch. Leo frowned.

"I know it's a lot of pressure," he said, measuring out every word carefully. "I feel it, Donnie, trust me. I'm the one who's supposed to lead this whole thing, and if we fail, that's my responsibility."

He swallowed against the panic that threatened to overwhelm him when his own words hit him in the stomach. But he sucked it up and moved his hand to his brother's head, urging him to look in his direction. Donnie did so, and Leo stared straight past the tears on his brother's face.

"So let _me_ worry about that," he said. "It's my job, not yours. I need you to stay focused. Because when the time comes, I'm gonna need that brain of yours, Don." Leo tried a soft smile and felt a small release in pressure when Donnie's gaze became attentive. "You learn the fastest out of all of us. What you don't know doesn't matter. Worry about what you do know, and use it to our advantage. I know this mission is nearly impossible, but we've done impossible before, and we're going to do it again."

Donnie furrowed his brow. "But you don't know that for sure."

Leo shrugged. "I don't know anything for sure … ever. That's why I have to have some kind of faith. Otherwise, everything's going to look hopeless, and then what do we do?"

Donnie's eyes turned away. He rested his chin back on his knees. "Faith is an intangible concept."

Leo nodded. "Yeah."

"I don't know what to do with that."

"Donnie, do you trust me?"

Donatello looked back to his brother as though his question was elementary. "Of course I do."

"Do I get everything right every time?"

"No."

"But you still trust me?"

Donatello went quiet. He understood; his eyes said so, and he looked away again, rubbing his cheeks with the back of his wrist. He sniffed in a breath and straightened his legs to stand. Leo stood with him.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend I know everything about faith and God or whatever, but I know if you can trust me, you should be able to trust something that supposedly gets it right every time. Right?"

Donnie scoffed. "Yeah, maybe if I knew that thing was real."

Leo shrugged. "I don't think the point is to know, Donnie. And anyway, isn't it better to believe in something that's going to give you hope than to deny it and know everything's gonna go to shit?"

Donnie glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

"This is supposed to be a pep-talk, Donnie."

Donatello turned away, shaking his head. "Yeah well, A for effort, I guess."

He walked for a moment then stopped, his shoulders moving steadily, neck bent as though he was thinking. He tilted his head to angle his voice back in Leo's direction and spoke quietly. "Thanks." He pulled in breath and turned around. "And you don't have to take on that burden by yourself, you know. Why else would you have three brothers?"

Leo's brief smile was pulled straight at the corners. He swallowed and nodded once. "Guess you're right."

Donnie raised a brow. "Of course I am."

Leo allowed himself a grin, then propped his hands on his waist as he pulled a long breath in through his nose. "Go to sleep, Donnie. That's an order."

"If you say so," Donnie said, rolling his eyes as he turned on his heel.

Leonardo watched his brother's shell as he walked out of the bridge and left him alone to frown in his wake. His eyes studied the floor before he turned back to gaze out the window at the countless clusters of stars and miles of black space, at the immensity of the universe and every mystery hiding within it. It had to come from somewhere. That, he could convince himself of. And if something so grand and complex had managed to materialize on its own, then what was the point of it all? And if there was no point, then what were fate and destiny? What was purpose, and why were they allowed to try again?

There had to be something — a thing, or a person, or a being behind it all that brought matter as complicated as galaxies and nebulas into existence and knew what was to come after destruction and death. What or who that being was, he couldn't be sure about. But what he knew was that he and his brothers were mutant turtles, they were from earth, and they were trained ninjas, and right now they were on a ship called the Ulixes, floating through space in search of a way to stop the Triceratons from destroying their planet again. What he knew was that, for whatever reason, they'd been given a second chance, and that was good enough for him. He knew how to take that and run with it, because he was a leader with a team, and he had full faith in them.

This time, they would not fail.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of several pieces I wrote for the TMNT fandom across the years that the 2k12 series was airing. I don't know how long it's going to take me, but I will be posting them all on AO3 in somewhat reverse order of how I posted them on FanFiction.net, I think. We'll see how it goes, but that's two done.


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